


Endgame

by yumekosmeari



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:42:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumekosmeari/pseuds/yumekosmeari
Summary: Azula's plans for a quiet, peaceful vacation on Ember Island go awry when Zuko unexpectedly shows up with the Gaang. If it weren't for them, well--namely Katara, Azula might have been able to avoid them for the whole, entirety of their stay.Or, every interaction with Katara results in a competition that Azula is determined to win.(Slightly AU; Azula and Zuko are still royals, but the war doesn't ...really... exist)
Relationships: Azula/Katara (Avatar)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 299





	1. The Rotten Sea Prune

It was becoming unbearable. 

For weeks now, Zuko’s _friends_ have been staying at her family's Ember Island estate for what they claimed to be a “short” vacation. As much as she possibly could, Azula had tried to steer clear of them, hoping to have moments to herself without having to interact with the fools Zuko chose to associate with. But it seemed as though wherever she turned, at least one, if not all of them, were dawdling around the corner. 

There was the bald, pale boy (man? man-boy?) who looked like he would cry at the sight of a couple of trampled daisies. Azula thinks he introduced himself as Lang. Or was it Khang? 

There was the Kyoshi warrior and the blind earthbender, both women she begrudgingly respected. She caught them practicing one day and what she saw surprised her.  For a non-bender, the warrior easily impressed her with a fighting technique with which she was wholly unfamiliar. The earthbender was formidable in her own right—small in stature, but possessing a wildly intricate hold over her bending abilities. 

The women would have been suitable guests on the island if not for the other man-boy that accompanied them. This one’s voice always sounded on the verge of reaching maturity before a wayward squeak would betray him. Whenever he was around, the whole group would fall into antics befitting of children—not twenty-something year-olds. They goofed around as if their parents had finally stopped keeping a watchful eye over them. It was _exhausting._

Azula could barely take two steps in the opposite direction before having to turn around again to referee their tomfoolery. If it wasn’t for Zuko’s insistence that they stay, Azula would have had them all banished from the island immediately. She was sure they would burn the mansion down if she wasn’t there to monitor their proclivities.

Honestly, Azula could handle all of that… _easily._ She wasn’t new to babysitting. She practically babysat her older brother her whole life. It was the last and final visitor in their little gang that made her stay on Ember Island a chore, much less anything that vaguely resembled a vacation. 

_Katara._

Unlike the others, the infuriatingly, head-strong woman made it _very_ difficult for Azula to forget her name. She could feel her teeth gritting at the mere mention of the waterbender. 

It felt as if Katara existed _purely_ just to complicate Azula’s life. 

At first, Azula was resolved to be indifferent towards the woman just as she was to all the other hog monkeys. She would keep their interactions short and clipped; uninterested to say the least. But quickly, she learned that Katara was not one to back down from a challenge. 

—[2 Weeks Prior]—

On the third morning of their stay, Azula follows the sound of disgustingly joyful chatter to the dining room where she guesses her brother to be. She is intent on finishing their conversation from last night. They had both stomped away from each other with heat fuming from their temples from the ferocity of their argument.

No doubt the subjects of their quarrel were consuming all of the food she had acquired for _her_ stay. She was supposed to be enjoying two months of alone time on the island. Not with Zuko and _definitely_ not with his friends. 

Azula heaves a heavy sigh.Trust Zuko to assume that all their amenities would magically replenish without any prompting. She would need to send the servants out for more supplies as soon as possible.

As she slides the panel to the dining room open, Azula lazily sifts through the endless list of insults she has prepared. Just in time, she settles on one and disrupts the jovial conversation she walked in on.

“Well Zuzu, I’m glad to see the little flames you were able to muster last night didn’t completely ruin the mop that you like to pass off as hair,” Azula drawls. “Although, it would probably be a marked improvement if it _did_.” It wasn’t her best quip, but it does the trick. Zuko’s previously wide smile dims to an even line.

She watches his narrowed eyes, waiting for him to reply when a loud clearing of a throat interrupts them.

“Good morning, _Azula_ ,” the water tribe woman says pointedly.

Azula’s eyes snap to the woman ( _Katara, was it?_ ) with contempt and admittedly—curiosity. 

The woman’s arms are tensely folded on the table, upper body leaning forward with a frown set firmly on her full lips. Bright blue eyes burn back at her and Azula is briefly reminded of her own blue flames.

_Is that_ …disdain _?_ If there was one thing that Azula understands, it is disdain.

But Azula couldn’t possibly understand what for. She had barely spared the woman, or the whole group no less, a passing glance since they’d arrived a few nights prior. They couldn’t possibly have interacted enough for Azula to earn _that_ look of disgust.

Was it the petty joke she made of Zuko’s hair just now? _Ah,_ she thought, _had Zuko found himself an admirer?_

With a quirk of her eyebrow, she gathers herself to her full height and sends a retort to the woman, “It seems as though I’ve somehow offended you in the short time you’ve been here since you _barged_ into _my_ home. I would apologize, but frankly, I don’t care. If anything, it should be you who apologizes.” Her words are accompanied with a thin, fake smile. 

To her satisfaction, the woman’s slender chin lowers in obvious irritation. Azula can feel her blue eyes blaze a trail across her skin as she scrutinizes every inch of her face. It sends a spark of lightning down her spine. 

“Hey guys,” a timid voice floats down from the other side of the table, “why don’t we all just get back to breakfast? We have fresh berries—”

Azula continues, as if the bald airbender hadn’t even spoken, “Go on, I would love to hear it. Maybe _then_ , it would be a good morning,” she grins.

Katara ignores the obvious goading and says, “Listen, it wouldn’t hurt to say a few pleasantries before handing out insults so early in the morning.”

“Oh on the contrary, I’m positive it _would_ hurt. Insulting others keeps me young you see. You should try it,” Azula gestures with a languid roll of her wrist. The look on Katara’s face darkens further; anger looking out of place on her admittedly beautiful features. 

“Azula, that’s enough,” Zuko cuts in, but Katara pushes forward, voice rising.

“Well, if those frown lines are any indication, it doesn’t seem to be working,” she sneers while the blind earthbender cackles to her left.

Azula ignores the sputtering of the others seated around the low table and eyes the woman in front of her carefully. 

_So the cat-gator has claws_ … 

“Funny, you should mention them,” she retorts wanting to see more of that gorgeous temper bleed through, “I was just beginning to question the efficacy of your water bending from the looks of your dry skin. What it must say about your abilities if you can’t even manage to hydrate yourself?”

Katara stands abruptly, jostling her plates and tea cup in the process. 

_Ah, there it is._

“You wouldn’t know good waterbending if it hit you in the face,” she fires back, any vestige of composure gone. “I wouldn’t mind being the one to serve it to you.”

She distantly hears Zuko and the other men raising their voices in panicked response, but she ignores them all. The Kyoshi warrior looks on unimpressed, chopsticks scraping against her plate as she gives herself another serving of food. The earthbender simply leans forward in anticipation.

Azula steps to Katara, inches away from her snarling face and smirks, “ _Oh,_ I’d love to see you try. After all, I love a good workout in the morning.”

Suddenly, a stream of water coils around Azula’s calf and sends her sailing towards the sandy beach of the estate. In an instant, her heart pounds with the speed at which she’s cast into the air. Before she can land on her back, she twists her torso and uses the momentum to land nimbly on her feet in a deep lunge.

Katara skates swiftly towards her using a wave of frozen seawater as the others trail behind. Her eyes are set in a resolute stare, focus never wavering despite the protests clamoring behind her. 

“Katara, she’s just playing with you!”

“Yeah, Katara it’s not worth it!”

“She just wants to get a rise out of you!”

“KICK HER ROYAL ASS KATARA!”

_That earthbender really is quite a character,_ she thinks distantly.

The familiar rush of adrenaline pumps through her veins causing her to smile inwardly—she had missed that delicious anticipation right before a fight.

“I give you a five out of ten for the distance, but honestly, that would be me being quite generous. How about instead of that apology, you gift me a thank you for my kind words?” 

Azula laughs indulgently at Katara’s responding growl. The sound rumbles across the beach and sends a shockwave across her skin.

The firebending form she moves through next is a basic one, designed to throw the opponent off-balance. She intends to test the limits of her adversary before exploiting her weaknesses. 

As she launches a fire blade at Katara’s legs, she notes how the woman watches every single one of her movements even after its execution. It’s clear that she had expected it by the ease of how she douses her flame with a flick of her wrists. _Interesting._

_“_ If this is how you’re gonna fight the rest of the time, we might as well stop now,” Katara shouts, “I’d rather spend my morning doing something _challenging!”_

Azula feels her upper lip give an involuntary twitch. _“I’ll show you challenging!_ ”

She punctuates her words with a flurry of fireballs still aimed at knocking her to the ground, she expects Katara to _at least_ be overwhelmed by the speed at which they’re delivered. 

She’s not.

Without faltering at her own surprise, she gathers a deep breath into her diaphragm and enters a more complicated set of movements.

But Katara matches her blow for blow; stinging water whips to her torso in exchange for a fiery arc to her own. Razor-sharp ice shards aimed at her head blocked by a hastily thrown wall of fire. Frozen shackles cementing her in place met with a thunderous slice of fire. 

It seems she has woefully underestimated the water tribe peasant. She is genuinely amazed by the assault Katara manages to throw at her; no matter how much it pains her to admit. The precision at which she unleashes her attacks are indicative of a practiced hand—what Azula estimates is a result of many days and nights of disciplined training. Hard-earned skill that she knows well.

They clash and spring apart in a breathtaking display of wills and strength, mirroring the waves crashing against the stones only meters away. Their fight rages on, gaining momentum with each passing round of fire against water. She’s already lost track of their small audience, already lost track of how long they’ve been trading blows. When she takes a second to look at her surroundings, she’s surprised to realize they’ve traveled far from her family’s estate in the midst of their fight. They’ve moved closer to the uninhabited stretch of land down the southern shore.

When Azula is thrown against a stony, jagged cliffside and frozen to the rocky surface, she snarls in frustration. It feels as though Katara hasn’t been affected by any of the attacks she’s sent her way. 

“Still think my waterbending is useless?” Katara taunts. Cold begins to settle into her bones at the mocking words. 

She quickly schools her features into a look of indifference. She lets her opponent stride closer calculating the distance between them with every haughty step she takes. The way the woman’s hips sway distract her more than she’d care to admit.

“If I remember correctly, I questioned its efficacy, not its usefulness.” 

Her nostrils flare with the sharp inhalation she forces against the restrictions of the ice around her. _One_.

She uses this breath to glance down Katara’s form, realizing her hits _have_ landed more than she initially thought. Rips and tears of varying sizes trail across the woman’s clothing surrounded by the telltale presence of burned edges. The fabric of her top is singed along the side of her chest stretching to parts of her sleeve where Azula managed to land a glancing stream of fire. With every swish of Katara’s arm, she can see a strip of flesh— a hint of a soft curve belying a generous-sized breast. 

Her eyebrow quirks at that. _How—erm…embarrassing._

Azula ignores how a different kind of heat settles in her stomach at the sight. Katara is breathing heavily, out of breath from their non-stop sparring. She tears her eyes away from the distraction and focuses instead on the hatred in Katara’s eyes. _Two_.

“From the look of you frozen to that wall, I’d say it’s pretty _effective,”_ Katara huffs. 

She’s not wrong, but it still grates on her nerves. Again, she patiently waits for the waterbender to take another step forward. _Closer, just a little bit more._

As the distance between them closes, she begins to take increasingly deeper breaths.

“What? Cat-gator got your tongu-” 

_Three_. Azula releases the breath of fire she had been steadily building in her stomach in a sudden burst of blue flames. It easily melts the frigid prison encasing her body and causes Katara to gracelessly jump backwards with jets of water to avoid the intense heat. 

Azula’s exhausted body slumps against the now dripping cliffside behind her. She feels gravel scratch against the patches of skin that became exposed after the barrage of ice spears Katara threw at her earlier. Her eyes lazily follow Katara as she rolls to a stop and drenches the front of her tunic with water. The flames that caught onto the clothing are immediately snuffed with the moisture. 

Their eyes meet from their respective positions in the sand, carefully cataloguing the weaknesses in each other’s stances. Azula can see exhaustion in the droop of Katara’s shoulders, just as she knows her legs must be shaking with the effort of standing upright. 

Waves crashing against the rocky bluffs are the only sounds Azula cares to register. She has never felt so _tired_ from a fight before. Not since she was much younger and her father would push her until she yielded, _every time_ they sparred. This…no, this is a shocking change from her victories over her usual, bland opponents. 

Shocking and very much satisfying in the way that hurt could sometimes feel _good._

Azula decides to break the tense silence between them. “You know, your concern about my _tongue_ is what got us in this scuffle in the first place,” she says salaciously. “It is a curious thing to worry about for someone so enraptured with my brother.” 

Katara’s head turns sharply at the mention of the prince in obvious confusion. _Hah! Did she really think I would not notice?_

Almost as if he knew he was being summoned, Zuko’s voice echoes across the thick grass bordering the top of the sand dunes behind Katara. 

“Haven’t you two had enough yet?! Where even are you guys?!” He shouts from halfway across the knoll.

Before he can get close, Azula swiftly unties her outer robe and wraps it securely around Katara’s shoulders. The woman flinches at the movement bringing her arms up defensively, roughly-formed ice spears encasing both limbs. 

“Relax, Avatar Kyoshi. Put your fans away,” she murmurs under her breath. “I must have torn away part of your tunic earlier.” 

When she nods to Katara’s (barely) exposed chest, her eyes follow, widening at the revelation. 

“Shit,” the woman curses. “How long has it been like that you…you—pervert!”

Azula visibly starts at the hostility in her voice. “Are you insinuating that it was done intentionally?!” 

“I’m not _insinuating_ anything! I _know_ you did it intentionally!”

She is beyond furious at the accusation, ready to rescind her offer of preserving her modesty. “If you are so sure, then you can hand me my robe back!”

Katara’s eyebrows pull together sharply, simultaneously melting the weapons around her hands and clutching the crimson silk robe closer to her chest. “ _Fine_ ,” she hisses. Then, motioning to the general direction of Azula’s body she asks haltingly, “what about—you? You’re all…uncovered.”

She glances down just now realizing she is left only in her chest bindings and silk sleeping shorts. Engrossed in her quick inspection, she misses the way Katara’s gaze lingers on her exposed abdomen and legs. 

“I suppose your friends will just have to enjoy the show,” Azula smirks. She almost swears she feels that same blazing trail from earlier make its way down her body, but chalks it up to her tired, post-fight brain.

“Oh, SPIRITS Azula! _WHY?!_ ” They both turn in time to catch the airbender, the water tribe man, and Zuko approaching quickly—with the latter furiously slapping his hands over his eyes.

Azula simply places a hand on her hip and puffs her chest out proudly. 

“Please, Zuzu. You are far too old to be _that_ much of a prude, still,” she says flippantly. He only huffs in response. Meanwhile, the other two are valiantly trying to keep their eyes from lingering too long on her body—with varying degrees of success. 

Zuko turns towards the direction of Katara, or what he must think is the right direction—it’s not—and asks, “are you alright? Did she hurt you at all?”

Azula rolls her eyes. _He didn’t actually think he would hurt her, did he?_

“No, no. Of course not,” Katara answers softly at first casting a curious glance to Azula, then stronger, “I can handle myself just fine, Zuko.” 

“I never doubted you, sis,” the man, who, _apparently_ is Katara’s brother, proudly adds. 

The airbender, looking the most concerned than any of them, gingerly cups Katara’s elbow and leads her towards the estate. “Let’s get you back to the house and check just in case.”

Azula rolls her eyes even harder than the first time. 

“Well, _I_ am just _fine_ if anyone bothered to care,” she announces, reluctantly moving to follow them across the beach.

She purposely lags behind the group, studying the waterbender still wearing her robe. 

Azula had to admit their match was…enlightening. It had been a very long time since she met someone of similar skill. Her muscles throb as if in agreement, a delicious ache from the constant back and forth with Katara. She lets out a soft chuckle. To think this had all resulted from a stupid joke at Zuko’s expense. 

She had spent her whole life training at her father’s, the _fire lord’s_ , insistence. For what? For a war that would never come? For an endless line of insipid opponents that she could defeat with her hands tied behind her back?

All of that waiting, all of that training…it almost felt worth it. 

Facing Katara’s ire felt like she had finally found the reason for all those countless hours of hard work. She felt like she finally found someone worthy to engage her blue flames. Had she found the endgame to all of this useless waiting?

At that exact moment, Katara’s head turns over her shoulder, catches Azula’s amber eyes,…and rudely sticks out her tongue.

Azula lets out an affronted gasp, startled by the unexpected childish-ness from the subject of her silent musings. _Spirits, who is this woman?_

“So…who even won, anyway?” Katara’s brother says, cautiously. 

They both answer at the same time. 

“ _Me,_ by like, a landslide.”

“Quite obviously, it was _me_.”

Again, Katara turns to Azula, but this time with shock stricken across her face. “What do you _mean,_ obviously?! I had you pinned to that cliff!”

“And I, very easily I might add, escaped your hold,” she sasses back. 

At that, Katara struggles to find a valid response, “But—I—you—you didn’t—” 

She glares while Azula smiles smugly at the sound of her stuttering. 

Then, without any indication or warning, Katara breaks into a sprint shouting over her shoulder, “ _last one to the house is a rotten sea prune!!”_

She does not stop to think. Does not blink, does not breathe.  Does not question how a random water tribe woman could possibly provoke a twenty-three year-old _fire nation princess_ into, what boils down to, a game of tag _._

Azula simply has no other choice but to chase after Katara. 


	2. The Favored Princess

“ _No._ Absolutely not,” Azula fires back. 

She glares at Khang and Katara, trying—and failing—to calm her breathing after running at breakneck speed for almost two kilometers. Her lungs ache with every labored inhale and her right leg pulses sharply from _spirits_ -knows-what. Despite it all, Azula forces herself to remain upright despite her bone-tired state.

The water bender is in no-better shape, hands braced on her knees as she huffs in agreement. “Yeah, as much as I hate to agree with Azula,” Katara pants, “I don’t think so, Aang.” 

The airbender however, is beaming. His arms are relaxed at his sides, sitting in half lotus on the banister that wraps around the royal estate. A clear glass of fruit juice sits forgotten next to his knee. He is neither huffing _nor_ puffing. “Oh, come on! Is it really that hard to believe that I won fair and square?”

Azula trudges past the man who was absolutely _radiating_ a chipper-ness she had no energy to deal with. “Yes, it is actually _very_ hard to believe.” 

She thinks back to the now pointless pursuit with annoyance.

_After Katara’s impromptu declaration of_ war _, she had barely taken two strides before an orange and yellow blur hurtled by in a_ whoosh _of bended air. Not to be outdone, and certainly not by Khang, Azula had furiously picked up her pace until she was able to see the water bender’s retreating form in the near distance._ _Azula’s robe rippled around the woman as she darted forward; eyes locked onto it like a Yuyan archer would a bullseye._

_For what felt like an_ eternity _, Azula and Katara were neck-and-neck, pushing against their waning limits to gain distance over the other. When Azula propelled past the other woman by—not even—a hair’s breadth, she felt a hand clasp around her elbow yanking her back those few precious centimeters she’d gained._

_She gasped at the utter display of poor sportsmanship, unknowingly allowing Katara to push past her while she was distracted._

_The winding, slate-tiled pathway of the mansion was already in sight by the time Azula recovered from her surprise. There was only a short distance between her and her mark and she most definitely was not ready to admit defeat._

_As soon as she was in the right position, she took two large leaps before lunging forward, straight into the water bender’s back. Her arms circled the woman’s torso in a perfectly executed tackle, effectively stopping Katara from reaching the railing of the back entrance._

_“_ Oof _,” Katara had wheezed from somewhere under Azula._

_They landed in an undignified heap, cushioned by the long grass surrounding the estate—Azula’s body slotted on top of Katara’s prone figure._

_Unfortunately, the impact had knocked the air out of Azula, as well. She trapped the woman underneath her with her knees, needing a moment to gather herself before resuming their chase._

_Hardly three desperate breaths of air later, the wiggling body under her spurred Azula into action. “Gah! Azula get_ off _of me!” she had screeched._

_“Gladly!” she exclaimed wickedly as she army-crawled over the still-squirming woman._

_The solid, wooden post of the railing was almost in reach. Azula was grinning at her imminent victory, the sweet, taste of triumph on the tip of her tongue. Her abdomen would be covered in scratches from the gravel scraping across her skin, but she didn’t give a flaming hot damn. Azula would arrive there_ first _._

_‘Katara will be the rotten sea prune and she would have to live with that failure for the rest of her life!’ she had mused._

_“Oh, no you don’t!” the shout came from behind her followed by frantic grappling around her naked calves and thighs._

_“Aaaa_ aaaa _ahhhhhhhhh!”_

_(Azula would later deny any recollection of a terrified shriek, but Katara heard what she heard.)_

_She was dragged backwards as Azula furiously clambered forward—hair was pulled, skin was bruised, and new rips were torn into their respective clothing. They were full on_ wrestling _by the time Khang surfaced from inside of the mansion holding a cup of fresh lychee juice._

_“About time you guys showed up!”_

_Azula froze, hand stilling where it was clamped over the side of Katara’s head, ignoring the woman’s elbow gripped around her own throat. She felt Katara loosen her grip as she turned to look at the airbender, too._

_She had completely forgotten about Khang._

_As one, they met each other’s eyes with the bewildered realization that he had reached the estate before they did._

_“Wait, no…” Katara said as she untangled her limbs from Azula. “No, there’s no way."_

_Khang simply smiled boyishly, his chinstrap beard the only thing stopping Azula’s mind from labeling him as a child. With a sharp burst of air from his hand, he takes a seat on the banister above them and sets his glass aside._

_“What took you two so long?”_

She growls at the absurdity of it all.

Footsteps follow behind her, but she doesn’t bother to turn around to see who it is. Shame begins to settle on the back of her neck with every footfall on the pristine flooring. Azula could not believe she actually engaged in such a juvenile _game_. The fire nation princess indulging in such frivolities was unheard of. A mockery of all that she stands for. All she wants is to get away from these deranged people and forget the whole morning even happened. 

But of course, it would not be that easy. Of course, the two squabbling idiots would follow her into the house.  “There’s no way you caught up to us Aang, I didn’t even see you pass us,” she hears Katara declare. 

Azula limps through the threshold of the dining room, only now realizing she is relying heavily on her left leg. _Great, just fantastic._

“I must have been running _super_ fast, then,” Khang answers proudly, “so fast that I waspractically invisible!” 

She snorts, resigning to the fact that she would not be able to evade these fools. Surprisingly, the earthbender is still in the room, lounging across a couple of abandoned cushions. Her arm props her head up so that it is level with her plate of food. 

Azula reaches for the bowl of berries still laid out on the low, wooden table. “More _accurately_ , you used your airbending to bolster your speed,” she drawls, popping the small fruit into her mouth. In the chaos that was this morning, she had completely forgotten about breakfast. 

When she looks up at the lack of a response, Khang’s mouth is flapping tactlessly as he flounders to defend himself.“Oh, come on! You’re just sour because I beat you, Azula.”

Katara has the nerve to giggle at his ludicrous comment. She feels her hackles rise at the reaction. Irritation settles deep into her shoulders and the tension in her muscles have nothing to do with her physical exhaustion. Khang’s resulting smile at Katara’s attention spreads impossibly wide and Azula feels nauseous. 

“Please,” she scoffs indignantly. Azula bites into another berry, the juice spilling over her tongue coating it with sweetness. It does nothing to dispel the bitterness that lingers there. 

“Oh, sure! Deny it all you want, but I was able to make my own lychee juice with all the time I had waiting.” He casts another expectant glance at Katara who is shaking her head fondly at him. 

Azula’s unease escalates at the sight; an unnamed, unfamiliar emotion bubbling in her chest. She mulls over the alien feeling, trying and failing to trace its roots if only so she could rip it out with earnest. In the end, she attributes it to Khang continuing to insert himself into their opposition uninvited.

“I cannot even begin to understand why you decided to include yourself, anyway,” her voice raises accusingly, turning shrill, “this was a race between _me_ and _Katara_ , not with y—” 

The others in the room have paused to look at Azula with startled expressions on their faces. Even the earthbender turns her head in the direction of her ranting. She stops mid-sentence, realizing how _ridiculous_ she sounded. 

Slowly, she takes a calming breath and speaks matter-of-factly, “You nearly created a tornado with the amount of air you kicked up when you passed me. Explain that.”

Katara and Khang are lingering in the entryway of the room, the former scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Ah, you caught that, did you?” She only raises her eyebrows in response, knowing she is completely right. “I figured you would both be using your bending, too.”

“Well, anyway the point was not to come in _last_ ,” Katara relays with a shrug, “so that makes Azula the rotten sea prune.”

She nearly spits out the berries she had just chewed. _Excuse me?!_

The earthbender chuckles.

_“Excuse me?!”_ she repeats aloud for the benefit of the plebeians in the room who—clearly—needed a dose of reality. “I made it to the house _eons_ before you did!”

Katara gives a sarcastic howl at her words. “Did you hit your head when I slammed you against that cliff, Azula? I made it back here before you were even _close_ to the house!” 

“ _Pfft_ , you had to stoop so low as to _cheat_ when I so much as breathed a _millimeter_ past you on the way here!” 

“There’s no rules about…physical,” she hesitates, gesturing wildly, “ _tactics_ —”

Azula rolls her eyes, _again._ “Well, _sure_ , says the woman who declared the start of a race on her own terms!”

Khang warily butts in, raising a tattooed hand to his face, “that _is_ sort of true, Katara—”

The woman glares, while Azula smiles triumphantly.

“—but then again, I _did_ see you tackle her to the ground Azula.”

In an instant, their expressions switch; Azula glaring and Katara smiling triumphantly.

“—but then again, neither of you _technically_ touched the banister at the end of the race,” he ponders, scratching his beard, “that would make both of you the rotten sea prunes.”

“STAY OUT OF THIS!” they shout at him at the same time. He jumps back—comically high due to his airbending—and lifts his hands in silent surrender.

The room abruptly fills with the sound of bickering. Katara vehemently explaining the ‘basic’ rules of tag which Azula vetoes with long, winding assertions of logical objectivity. They are so engrossed in their debate that they don’t realize the airbender has wordlessly backed out of the room with unease written across his features. 

On his way out, he quickly catches Zuko and Katara’s brother on their shoulders, ushering them away from the chaos.

“What?—” Katara’s brother starts.

“You don’t want to know,” Khang simply whispers.

“We walked _all the way_ to the cliffs just for you guys to run home,” Zuko mutters. He peeks back into the dining room and what he sees makes him groan. “Aang’s right, I don’t want to know.”

Meanwhile, the earthbender’s patience begins to dwindle with each tired argument. She puts down her bite of komodo sausage and sighs with exasperation. Using both hands, she reaches for the bits of metal she senses around the room and bends them to her will. Spreading her arms out swiftly, she sends the scraps of metal towards the deafening feud in front of her.

_Clink._

Bands of metal clamp around both women’s mouths, bringing the room into complete silence. 

“Ahh,” the woman exhales, bringing her hands down from where they summoned the metal, “much better.” In considerably better spirits, she returns to her komodo sausage, eating with renewed vigor.

— Much Later —

After a substantial amount of pleading mumbles through her muzzle, Katara is able to convince the earthbender to release them. (She was certainly amused by Azula’s muffled threats of death and mutilation, but not entirely persuaded.) They _finally_ go their separate ways. Of course, they send each other scowls from across the hallway, but nevertheless, they separate.

The servant she had summoned towels her body down with firm, but careful motions being mindful of the new collection of bruises and scrapes littering her skin. The help have become quite familiar with serving the princess in this state: post-combat with injuries of varying severity. Azula would have to tend to those cuts soon after she was finished here. 

Her bath had been a welcome reprieve from Zuko’s guests—quiet time that she had been craving since they first arrived on the island. It was a bit tricky keeping the worst of her wounds from being submerged in the stagnant water, but she eventually managed. In any case, she was determined to prolong this alone time for as long as she possibly could. 

After the servant ties off her sleeping robe— _a new one—_ and combs her hair to perfection, she heads toward the upper-most level of the mansion. Winding hallways with candles lining the walls lead her to a massive set of double doors that she knows make a loud, ominous groan when they open. Azula is certain that even _Zuko_ would not enter this forbidden area—the fire lord’s study. 

Whereas, being the favored princess that she is, Azula knows this room very well. 

During every single summer of her teenage years, her father had called her into this same study to discuss political affairs for _hours_. While she had done so dutifully and attentively, her brother had been off—spirits knows where—enjoying his summer days free of the royal commitment. 

Ozai was relentless with his ambitions. He had drilled his almost maniacal eagerness for success into Azula until it became second-nature. She knew he had an enormous amount of plans for her future as the fire nation princess. If Zuko hadn’t been so foolish as to run away from home, maybe it would be _him_ in her place, acting as her father’s future highest commander. 

He was always fond of throwing that threat in her face. Of how replaceable she was. Of how easy it would be to pluck Zuko from whatever disease-ridden village he had taken residence in.

It was always about Zuko. 

More frequently than she would admit, her skin would itch with defiance. She wanted to challenge her father’s words, push him like he always pushed her, until he _did_ retrieve Zuko and replace him with her. If anything, it would have finally given her a rest from the neverending tasks Ozai would assign her. It would have put an end to the burden he placed on her shoulders.

It would have brought her brother back home—where he belonged. 

She walks—well to be more accurate—limps to the ornate desk sitting opposite the large windows. Taking a seat in her father’s desk chair, she reaches for the third drawer, wincing as a bruise on her abdomen makes itself known. For the hundredth time that day, she internally curses that wretched waterbender. She hopes that wherever Katara is in the house at this moment, she is suffering a similar fate.

The wood rattles as it slides from its place in the desk and the familiar musk of herbal antiseptics fill her nose. Memories of her father hastily tending to her wounds—that he himself had inflicted—accompany the stench. 

Many a time in her childhood, the fire lord had been unsatisfied with Azula’s firebending progress. He had pushed and poked and prodded at her mental psyche, finding new ways to insult her until she showed signs of improvement. And if she didn’t? Those pushes, pokes, and prods became _physical._ He would throw endless streams of fire at her, forcing her to defend and redirect until she ran out of energy. The royal physicians were never made aware of her injuries. The fire lord made sure of that.

Azula grabs a roll of gauze, medical tape, and a vial of clear liquid; pulls back the silk fabric of her robe, and gets to work. Most of the wounds she finds are superficial, only needing a dab of disinfectant here and there. For the more severe lacerations on her legs, Azula has to sit on the desk, finding it easier to tend to them with a flat surface underneath her limbs. 

She is in the middle of wrapping a moderately-sized wound on her upper thigh, bare leg stretched across the desk, when she sees something move in her peripheral vision.

Azula looks up briskly. Her eyes flit around the room and land on the slightly ajar double doors. A single candle flickers in the hallway sitting inside a decorative, metal holder. She bends the flame, the wick erupting into an electrifying blue, until the dark hallway is awash with brilliant light. 

She waits.

“Reveal yourself!” she commands.

But nothing happens. Only the dancing of shadows from the candle disrupt the stillness in her vision. Perhaps it was just that: a shadow.

As such, Azula returns her attention to wrapping her leg methodically with steady, practiced hands. Vaguely, she remembers that this particular wound came from an ice shard that Katara had lodged into her thigh. It was not a difficult feat for Azula to heat bend the protruding ice quickly from her body, but the damage was done, nonetheless. 

Her brows pinch together in frustration, unbelieving that the waterbender had managed to land such a lethal throw. If the fragment of ice had punctured her flesh a minuscule amount deeper and a few millimeters to the right… 

She noisily lets out a puff of air. It was dangerously close to an artery. Azula could have hemorrhaged and died within the hour. The realization triggers a visceral reaction within her. Sweat begins to coat her palms and her pulse skyrockets in seconds. Her vision becomes fuzzy around the edges and her head feels heavy with dread. She cannot remember a time when she had felt so panicked—so alarmed.

Of course, she was aware of the dangers that came with fighting—elemental or otherwise. But Azula had always been the one to deal the fatal blows. She has never been on the opposite end of the sword. To think that some _stranger,_ some random woman Zuko brought here, would be the one to make Azula second-guess herself.

Although… 

Many of the attacks Katara had initiated were _suspiciously_ (and irritatingly) accurate. There is no doubt in Azula’s mind that her rival could have pierced that artery if she wanted to. 

_Which means she purposefully sent that ice shard_ exactly _where she intended._

A resentful growl grumbles through her chest. The frustration she had already been feeling mounts to a dangerous new high. As pleased as she was to have an opponent of similar skill, the knowledge that she could have been beaten—or killed, even—does not sit well with her. 

That simply would not do. 

Azula resolves to be _better._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Azula still getting Aang's name wrong/not bothering to find out the names of the rest of the Gaang is canon.
> 
> Also, I genuinely intended this fic to just be a series of snapshots of Katara and Azula competing over increasingly ridiculous things, but my Azutara heart yearns for more content and if you're reading this I think you would agree too lmao
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! Have a great week!

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, I don’t condone women insulting the physical features of other women. Uplifting vibes, only!


End file.
